


Perry's Corner

by hazel_3017



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Career Ending Injuries, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6024007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_3017/pseuds/hazel_3017
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sid has worked at <em>Perry’s Corner</em> for what seems like ages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perry's Corner

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for [eclecticverse23](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eclecticverse23/pseuds/eclecticverse23) on tumblr last year, but I've cleaned it up some now. I really wanted to post something for Valentine's Day yesterday, but never got around to writing anything, so I'm cheating a little. Enjoy!

It’s a small, but popular café. 

Sid has worked at _Perry’s Corner_ for what seems like ages. He was only nineteen when he migrated south from Cole Harbour, settling in Pittsburgh of all places. Well. Maybe it’s not so surprising when he thinks about it. Pittsburgh had been the city to draft him after all—before the car crash that wrecked his legs; not enough to cripple him, though it might as well have. What use were his legs if he couldn't skate fast enough, hard enough? What use were his legs when all his chances at a NHL career were over? Bitter and furious with the world, with himself, and with his circumstances, Sid left home with no clue where he was going or even what he wanted to do now that life as he knew it was over.

Sidney spent a year in a haze of fuming rage and angry resentment, and it was Perry Sr. who saved him. He’d given a home and a future to a lost and angry teen, given him hope where there had only been empty hollowness for so long. Sidney was forever grateful to him, and he could spend a lifetime trying to pay him back and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Which is why he’s still sticking around, he thinks, even though Perry Sr. passed a couple of years ago, and his son David is now the owner of the café. David, as much as Sidney thinks he’s a good guy, has no head for business and absolutely no interest in baked goods beyond sampling them— _"It's called quality control, Sid_." 

It makes for some interesting arguments.

“Sid!” David says when he walks into the café that morning, late as always.

Sidney is behind the glass displays, helping Jenna arrange the cupcakes he finished earlier. Their eyes meet and they share a look of exasperated fondness.

“Perry,” Sid greets calmly, because he’s a little shit and he knows David hates the nickname.

David grimaces, muttering under his breath in French. _Such an ugly nickname_ , he’s saying, _why would anyone shorten Perron to Perry?_

Sid has to hold back his snickers, knowing better than to remind David that he speaks the language. David will only spend the rest of the day chirping at him in fast-paced French.

“What can I do for you, Perry?”

“I’ve just received a last-minute Valentine’s order. It’s a very important client, Sid. You need to bring your A game.” David lifts his hand and starts ticking off his fingers. “We need cupcakes, cookies, an assortment of chocolates, the whole nine yards.” He pauses for a moment, looking a little sheepish when he says, “Oh, and it needs to be ready by tonight.”

“Tonight!” Sid exclaims, and scowls when Jenna sends him a pitying look. Hah! Shows what she knows. If David is serious about this, Sid is going to need her help. They’ll probably have to call in the other part-time workers as well. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, Perry. It’s going to be hell getting everything ready in time as it is. I don’t have the time for an extra order, much less a big one like that. There’s no way!”

David shrugs. “I already said we’d do it.” In other words, Sid is going to have to do this whether he likes it or not.

_Son of a bitch._

“Fine,” he growls out, already reaching for the phone to call in Beau and Borts, “but you are going to owe me big time.”

Sid and his three part-timers spend a gruelling eleven hours getting everything done in time, with David manning the front during opening hours (God help them all), and when the clock is nearing nine p.m., only Sid is left, waiting for David’s mystery V.I.P. to pick up his emergency order.

David had told him the customer would be there at nine p.m., but Sid is tired enough that he is honestly contemplating to just say _fuck it_ and leave already. He looks longingly at the door and then at the large clock on the wall behind the cash register. Four minutes left. If this guy doesn’t show up at nine p.m. sharp, Sid is going to leave. Screw it, he really will.

There’s a sudden knock, and Sid startles, turning back to the door to see a tall guy waving at him from behind the glass.

_Holy shit_ , Sidney thinks, slowly moving to open the door. That’s Evgeni Malkin.

Sid is going to _kill_ David.

“Hi!” Malkin says when Sid has unlocked the door to let him in. He sucks in a deep breath, breaking into a wide smile at the smell of freshly baked goods—and he looks ridiculous like that, Sidney thinks. Not handsome at all. Not even a little bit.

“Smells so good!” Malkin enthuses. “Taste as good?” He’s looking at Sid with warm, brown eyes, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

He’s teasing. Sid is being chirped.

“I—uh—yes,” Sid manages to say. “I did the baking, so…” He shrugs. Sidney has never been one for false modesty.

Malkin’s grin widens. “You bake, so best?”

And _yes_ , that’s exactly it, but Sidney knows that sounds arrogant, even if it is true. Instead of answering, he walks over to the register, feeling Malkin’s eyes on him as he reaches for the pink box on the counter top. Sid has spent hours getting it ready. Whoever Malkin is sharing it with better appreciate it.

“Here’s your order. Everything is there: the cupcakes, the cookies, and the chocolate. There’s no nuts, so you don’t have to worry about allergies. David said something about—”

Sidney cuts off abruptly as he turns around. He gasps, surprised to find Malkin right there, so close the pink box in his hands is caught between them, pushing against Malkin’s winter coat. He looks up, meeting Malkin’s eyes, and has to restrain himself from squirming under the measured weight of that gaze.

“I know you,” Malkin says, looking at Sidney more intently than anyone has bothered to in a while. He tilts his head to the side, considering, squinting his eyes as if the slight change in perspective will help him place Sidney in his memory.

It must help, because Malkin straightens suddenly, losing the last of his cheerful demeanour. “Sidney Crosby,” he says. He sounds a little _awed_ of all things, and this, this is a reminder of his past that Sidney does not need.

“Sidney Crosby,” Malkin says again. “Best hockey player in the world.“

"Not anymore,” Sid snaps. “Not ever.” He’s rougher than he needs to when he shoves the pink box into Malkin’s hands. “You can settle the bill with David. Now please leave.”

Malkin accepts the box and takes a step back, giving Sidney some much needed space, but he doesn’t leave, nor does he seem inclined to. “Sorry,” he says, his voice gentling, as if speaking to a particularly flighty animal. “Always wonder what happen to you. Penguins draft you too, and I’m so happy, get to play with Sidney Crosby, but then nothing. No one know what happen to you, only that Sidney Crosby no longer wants to play hockey.”

Sidney looks away. He doesn’t owe Malkin an explanation; it was Sid’s right to keep the car crash secret, to hide from the bright glare of the media light, but the thing is, Sid remembers him. He was there when Malkin was drafted, remembers that one elevator ride, remembers a tall and gangly teenager with kind eyes and a cocky grin. _Geno. Can call Geno._

It had been the only words except from ‘yes’ and ‘no’ he’d spoken in English, and it had only been a thirty-second elevator ride, but it had meant something, somehow, and Sid would be a liar if he said he didn’t remember that.

“You should go.”

Malkin— _Geno—_ is silent for a while. Finally, he nods. He shifts the box in his hands, hefting it into the corner of one arm as the other hand reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a card, placing it gently on the counter. “If want to talk, you call my number anytime. We go out for drinks. Talk about Ovechkin’s grey hair.”

Sid releases a strangled laugh at that, and he’s still looking away, but he feels Geno’s presence as he hovers near him for a few seconds, the silence tense before he finally steps away.

“Good night, Sidney Crosby,” he hears Geno say as he strides across the room, opening the door before closing it gently behind him.

Sid finally turns to look, his eyes watching as Geno's figure becomes smaller and smaller the further away he gets. 

He looks back at the counter, eyes landing on the small business card.

Sidney scowls at it. He reaches out, closing his fingers around it before leaning over to throw the card into the waste bin by the register. Hockey is a part of his past, and that part of his life is over. Not even Geno Malkin can change that.

He’s determined to ignore the bizarre meeting as a one-off, but as Sidney closes the café and makes his way home, he can’t help but think about how Geno never said goodbye.

_Good night_ , he’d said, as if expecting to see Sidney the next day.

Sidney doesn’t see him the next day, not that he really has time to think about it. It’s Valentine’s Day, and like any other holiday (even if Sid thinks V-Day is complete and utter bullshit), Sidney is kept busy the entire day.

By the time it’s been a week, Sidney has almost convinced himself he’s over it, but then Jenna sticks her head into the kitchen, her eyes wide and starry-eyed when she says, “You will _not_ believe who is out here asking for you right now.”

Sid only spares her a brief glance, humming as he concentrates on finishing the piping on Mrs. Diaz’s son’s wedding cake. (It’s his third time getting married; Sid made the previous two cakes as well). “I don’t have time for a walk-in today, Jenna. I told you not to make any appointments before Monday.”

“Yeah, no. This isn’t a cake order,” Jenna says, and her voice sounds strange enough that Sid pays her a little more attention. “It’s _Evgeni Malkin_ ,” she says at Sidney’s arched brows. “Of the Pittsburgh Penguins,” she adds, as though it needs clarifying.

Sid blinks at her. “What?”

He walks out to the front, and there he is, casually looking over the goods Sid and Jenna put out just an hour ago.

It’s early enough that no one else is in the shop yet, much less David, who won’t come ambling in for another couple of hours at least, Sidney knows.

Geno looks up when Sidney makes a strangled noise, his face breaking into a huge grin when he sees him. “Sidney Crosby!” he says. “Remember me?” His tongue is poking out again. “I’m Evgeni Malkin, but you call me Geno.”

Sid rolls his eyes. “Of course I remember you,” he says, and glances back at Jenna when she makes a high-pitched noise, looking from Sid to Geno like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

"What are you doing here?” he asks when he turns to look back at Geno.

He’s still wearing that shit-eating grin of his, eyeing Sidney with amusement. “This how you treat every customer?” He mock gasps, smirking when Sid rolls his eyes again. “Ask what they do here? Is no surprise, you know. Want good cupcake, and I’m know Sidney Crosby make best cupcake. So I’m come here.”

Sidney wants to call bullshit, but Geno is making an effort, for whatever reason. “It was a success then? The Valentine’s box. You enjoyed it? You and whoever you shared it with?”

Geno’s eyes goes dark for a moment, his lips thinning into a firm line. “I’m eat alone,” he says. “My Valentine find other Valentine to be with.”

It takes a second for Sidney to parse out what he means. He was cheated on, Sid thinks. What the hell? Why would anyone cheat on Evgeni Malkin. The guy had brought a third Cup to Pittsburgh; Sidney has yet to meet a Yinzer who isn't half in love with him.

“Oh,” he says, feeling a little stunned, and he turns to look helplessly at Jenna.

_Offer him a freaking cupcake_ , she mouths, gesturing wildly at the display and looking at Sidney more judgementally than he deserves, he thinks.

“Cupcakes!” he blurts out. “I made a new batch of cupcakes earlier today. They’re red velvet. Really good. You’ll like them, I think.” He’s babbling, and Sidney usually isn't so easily flustered; he feels like braining himself on the counter top just to shut himself up, but when he dares to look at Geno, he’s staring back at Sidney with something akin to fascination.

He looks charmed.

Sidney takes a breath. Geno being here is poking at an old hurt, but Sidney _likes_ him, can’t help himself, and besides, the guy was just cheated on. The least Sid can do is offer him a free sample of his red-velvet cupcakes. They really are quite good.

“Would you like to taste? A cupcake,” he hurries to add on when Geno’s look turns leering, blatantly roving his eyes up and down Sidney’s form. Sid flushes heavily.

“Yes,” Geno says. He steps closer. “Would like to taste. Sidney Crosby best, yes?”

And, well.

Geno makes sure to compliment Sid on his cupcakes before he leaves. “Have practice,” he says a little mournfully, so obviously regretful about leaving that Sidney can’t help his amused smile.

He comes back, though, the next day. And the day after that, and after that.

Actually, Geno keeps coming around until finally, he doesn’t have to, because Sidney sees him almost every day when he gets home from work.

(David, the lovable bastard, is incredibly smug about it.)

**Author's Note:**

> Can be found at [tumblr](http://hazel3017.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Perry's Corner by Hazel_3017](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744362) by [brightnail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightnail/pseuds/brightnail)




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